


You Really Got Me Now

by allwaswell16



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, American Harry, American Louis, Art, Coach Louis, Flirting, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Holiday, M/M, Museums, Mutual Pining, POV Louis, Roma | Rome, Sexual Tension, Smut, Teacher Harry, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 19:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwaswell16/pseuds/allwaswell16
Summary: Louis is the best older brother anyone could ask for. He knows this because he's agreed to help chaperone his younger sister's school trip to Rome. As it turns out, Italy is full of surprises. Fizzy's Italian teacher is surprisingly hot, Rome is surprisingly interesting, and Louis is surprisingly falling in love with more than just the city.Prompt #77: The impatience at having to listen to someone blather on and on.





	You Really Got Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge. We each select random numbers and are given a specific emotion from the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names. To read the other fics written in this challenge, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works), or you can find the masterpost on tumblr [here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).
> 
> Thank you to my beta [ taggiecb](http://archiveofourown.org/users/taggiecb/pseuds/taggiecb) for holding my hand as always. <3 
> 
> All remaining mistakes are most definitely my own and the result of writing late at night and falling asleep as I try to write things. The title is from the song "You Really Got Me" by The Kinks. I really don't remember why I thought I should use this song. Probably chosen late at night. lol.

 

“Lou, thank you so much for agreeing to go on the trip with us! Mr. Styles said he wouldn’t even consider going unless he had another chaperone.” Fizzy stares up at him with a wide smile, and Louis knows he’s made the right decision.

“Sure, Fiz. I needed to use up some of my PTO anyway.” Louis says as they walk into West High School. It’s always a bit strange to walk into a school building at night. Eerie in a way with almost no one around. Their footsteps echo a bit as Fizzy leads the way to the wing of the building where all the foreign languages are taught. Louis grimaces a bit at the thought. He had some good times in this building, but learning a foreign language wasn’t one of them. He took four years of Spanish under extreme duress, meaning he needed them so he wouldn’t have to take a foreign language in college and could concentrate on more important things while he was there. Like soccer. He’s glad though that his little sister has academics more on her mind than he ever did in high school.

He knows this Mr. Styles person wasn’t around teaching Italian when he was here, so he isn’t sure what to expect from this meeting. As soon as they enter the classroom, he suddenly has a better idea about why Fizzy is suddenly devoted enough to her study of the Italian language that she’s joined the Italian club. Mr. Styles is  _ hot _ . Long brown curls brush his shoulders, clear green eyes seek them out as they enter the classroom, long legs encased in form fitting trousers stride across the room towards them, and a deep voice emerges from his sinful lips, “Hello. You must be Felicite’s brother. I’m Mr. Styles, her Italian teacher.” Mr. Styles smiles wide enough for dimples to appear. Oh for fuck’s sake, he thinks as Mr. Styles shakes his hand.

“Hi, yes. I’m Louis Tomlinson. It’s nice to meet you.”

He shoots Fizzy a look as they take their seat. “What?” She asks innocently.

“You know what! Mr. Dimples over there. Your Italian teacher is—“ He pauses.

Fizzy is smirking now. “Yes? My Italian teacher is what, Lou?”

Mr. Styles is looming over them with a sheaf of paperwork that Louis takes with a weak smile. “Uh, your Italian teacher is very brave for taking us all on a trip like this.”

Mr. Styles smiles, dimples very much present. “It’s my pleasure. I have a deep love for Rome and the language and the people. And of course, the food.”

Jesus, that voice. “Is it as deep as your voice?” Louis murmurs as Mr. Styles walks away from them. Fizzy nudges him, and Mr. Styles half turns to glance back at them. Oops. Louis hopes he didn’t catch that.

When Mr. Styles finishes passing out the paperwork, he looks fondly around the classroom at the twelve or so students and their parents.

“Hello, and thank you for coming. I’d like to especially thank those of you who have agreed to help chaperone this trip for us. If you are chaperoning, please fill out the top page of the packet, and I’ll collect it at the end.”

Louis quickly scribbles in his contact information as Mr. Styles continues. “There’s a lot of information for us to cover tonight, so I’d better get started.”

Louis doesn’t like the sound of that. He really doesn’t like it when Mr. Styles dims the lights and starts a damn PowerPoint presentation of all the forms that need to be filled out. Louis feels his will to live through the monotony begin to crumble. This is why he’s a college soccer coach. No boring presentations. Does Mr. Styles talk really fucking slowly, or is it just him? He looks around at the others in the room, but they’re all looking at the slides as though they were footage of Kris Bryant hitting a home run. He sighs and rests his head on his hand and lets his eyes glaze over.

Suddenly, there’s a photograph of a magnificent fountain on the screen, so Louis listens in briefly.

“Baroque-en-hearted? Your spirits will be revived when on our first day we walk past Rome’s uniquely beautiful Baroque fountains. At the foot of the Spanish Steps you’ll find a fountain designed to look like a sinking ship. Funny story about that, the artist, Bernini, found that the water pressure here was so low that he had to—blah blah blah.” Louis lets the end of Harry’s ‘funny’ story wash over him until he’s tuned him out enough that it’s just a low drone of noise. And ‘Baroque-en-hearted?’ That might be the worst pun he’s ever heard.

Mr. Styles begins clicking slowly through the entire itinerary for the trip.

“The largest concrete dome ever constructed—“

Louis stretches his legs out.

“Our stroll through the Campo De Fiori—“

Louis leans back in the chair.

“Built by the emperor Vespasian in A.D. 72—“

Louis props his elbow on the side of the desk.

“Frozen in time nearly two thousand years ago—“

Louis’ temple now rests on his hand.

“Four rows of columns radiate out—“

Louis eyes begin to drift closed.

“The only sculpture he ever signed—“

Louis jerks awake and tries to sit up.

“One of Europe’s most sumptuous art experiences—“

Louis eyes drift shut again.

Suddenly, the lights are back on, and Mr. Styles is sliding his contact information form out from under his elbow. Mr. Styles raises an eyebrow at him, and he smiles back sheepishly. Caught again.

Louis stands to leave, but Fizzy is talking with a friend for a moment. He leans back against the wall and takes out his phone to check the Cubs score.

A soft exhale brushes against his ear. “Will this be your first visit to Rome?” Mr. Styles deep voice resonates in his ear, sending a reverberating wave of sensation down Louis’ spine.

He looks up into Mr. Styles eyes, which are unnervingly close. “Yes.” Louis squeaks out. Fuck. Why did his voice sound like that? He clears his throat. “Yes, uh, I’ve never been to Europe. Hear they like soccer though, so—aces.” Aces? What the fuck is he even saying?

Mr. Styles steps back and barks out a loud startling laugh that he attempts to cover with his hand. “Ehm, yes, although they call it football there. They do quite like their football. I’d call it more of an obsession really. If you see anyone having an animated conversation, it’s probably about football.”

“Ah, good to know.” Louis smiles, and Mr. Styles’ eyes grow wide. Louis gets a bit lost in them for a moment. They are a really mesmerizing shade of green flecked with amber.

Mr. Styles leans back into Louis’ personal space again. “Rome is much more exciting to experience in person, Louis. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

It turns out that Louis is looking forward to the trip more than he expected.

///

This is their second day in Rome, and Louis is already starting to lose his shit. If he thought Mr. Styles was hot back when they were in Iowa that was nothing compared to Mr. Styles in Italy. Mr. Styles in Iowa may wear tight polo shirts and fitted trousers, but Mr. Styles in Italy wears jeans nearly painted onto his long legs and perky ass. His shirts all seem to be perpetually unbuttoned far lower than is healthy for Louis’ mental state and allow for visual access to his chest tattoos and a chain necklace with a cross dangling from it. Both the tattoos and the necklace seem to have a mesmerizing effect that is quite unnerving. Then, add to all that the fact that Mr. Styles speaks Italian everywhere they go. Obviously, Louis supposes, but fuck if that isn’t hotter than he expected.

Oh, and it doesn’t help that he knows Mr. Styles sleeps in the nude, which he only knows because he forgot his damn shampoo and had to go ask to borrow some last night. When Mr. Styles opened the door wearing his bedsheets around his bottom half, Louis nearly passed out. It did not help to have Mr. Styles apologizing for his state of undress by explaining he’d already gone to bed and prefers to sleep without the constraints of clothing. He’d ended up leaving the shampoo bottle by his door when he was finished showering. Didn’t really want to look the man in the eye when he’d just spent far too much time jerking off in the shower to the thought of his long fingers wrapped around him. Why does Mr. Styles wear so many rings? Just to show off how long his fingers are? Just so that Louis can’t stop thinking about what else those fingers could be doing?

Not that he spends all his time thinking about Mr. Styles while he’s in the Eternal City. It’s just that whenever he’s not thinking about him, he seems to appear and brush by him as Louis inhales the slight scent of his cologne. Or Louis suddenly hears his deep voice speaking Italian words he doesn’t understand. Mr. Styles is probably just asking for that sludge in a cup that he calls espresso, but to Louis’ ears it sounds—quite enticing.

He’s done his best to avoid him this morning though. Louis doesn’t know much about art, but today they’re in the Galleria Borghese. As soon as they entered the gardens surrounding the villa Louis was struck by the sheer beauty of it. They waited for their reserved time, and Louis explored the magnificent marbled rooms of frescoes and sculptures and paintings with Fizzy and the others in his charge by his side. The end of their two hours of reserved time is nearly over, and he leaves Fizzy and the others in the gift shop as he goes back to one particular room to get a second look at one sculpture that he really found interesting.

He’s the only one left in the room, and he moves in a circle around the sculpture of David in awe of the talent and skill of the artist to create something like this out of marble. It’s nothing like the David he’s more familiar with, Michelangelo’s serene version. No, this one slays. It’s a sculpture to admire from all angles as this David is poised to sling the rock at Goliath at any moment. It’s astonishing.

“It’s amazing isn’t it?” A deep voice says from behind him, causing Louis to startle. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I swear I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I think you just didn’t hear me because you were too busy admiring how hot twenty-five year old Bernini was.”

“What?” Louis asks, caught off guard at the comment and by the real life man before him.

Louis watches Mr. Styles’ face as he eyes the face of David. “The sculpture is a self-portrait of the artist at twenty-five.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Mr. Styles smiles at him. “Yes, Bernini was quite good looking apparently. But of course, he was even much more astonishingly talented.”

“I mean, I don’t know much about art. Only had to take the one Art Appreciation class in college.” He offers Harry a slightly embarrassed smile. “But the details that he managed to carve out of marble like—he sculpted armpit hair!”

Harry barks out a loud honk of a laugh that sounds even louder in this quiet corner of the museum.

“Yes, he did. It has a much more gritty realism to it than the  _ Davids _ of the Renaissance. Bernini had arrived, and he’d brought the Baroque style with him.”

Louis winces. “Please don’t make that awful Baroque joke again.”

“Heyyyy. It’s very memorable though!  _ You _ still remember it months later!” Harry protests.

Louis laughs. “True. You got me there.”

Mr. Styles grins. His eyes shine, and his dimples appear. And Louis finds that’s just as fascinating as the marble sculpture next to them.

“Mr. Styles, thank you for telling me about the sculpture.”

“My pleasure, Louis. And please, call me Harry.”

“Okay—Harry.”

///

Louis arrives back at the hotel to get ready for dinner in a bit of a fog. He’s tired, not quite over his jet lag. He spends a bit more time than normal on his appearance, but who could blame him really? He lets Fizzy and his other charges know he’s headed downstairs to the small sitting area where the hotel serves them pastries and coffee in the morning. He halts as he gets closer and notices Mr. Styles—Harry—is already seated there writing in a beat up leather journal. He’s not sure he should interrupt, but before he can decide what to do, Harry’s pen has paused, and he’s noticed Louis, a welcoming smile on his face.

Louis returns the smile and walks over to Harry’s table and sits in a nearby chair.

“Well, Louis, you clean up nicely.”

“Hey, now. I was wearing an official Roma jersey today!”

Harry laughs. “Yes, you were. The kids in the Villa Borghese really seemed to enjoy kicking the ball around with a fellow fan.”

“Being a soccer coach comes in handy occasionally.” Louis looks down at the page Harry is writing on and notices a small soccer ball doodled in the corner. “Are you writing about me?” He asks before he can stop himself. He’s never been someone who could hold his tongue.

Harry instantly claps the journal shut as his cheeks flush with color. Well, then.

“Uh, this is my travel journal, so in a way yes. I wrote about you playing in the park a bit.” Harry clears his throat and changes the subject. “So what are you going to do with your few free hours tonight?”

“Oh. Not sure I’ll really do anything actually. I’m a little tired, so—“

“Louis! You have to get out and do something! You can’t let these opportunities pass you by!”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I’ll do—something. Uh, got any suggestions?”

“Sure.” Harry hesitates, a bit of pink creeping back into his cheeks. “Or if you’d like I could take you to a few of my favorite places tonight.”

“Sounds great actually. If you don’t mind that is. It’s very nice that the chaperones have every other night to themselves. Someone planned that well.” Louis says with a smile.

Harry returns the smile. “Yes, great planning, I’d say. Sounds like someone really knew what he was doing.”

///

Dinner turns out to be an odd exercise in frustration. Harry is seated across from him, and Louis can’t help but watch the way Harry eats. Does he always eat tongue first? Or is he doing it purposely to torture Louis? Surely not. Fizzy elbows him and whispers to stop staring. He denies this accusation, but he then forces himself to look away and concentrate on his own food.

As they near the hotel, Harry says goodnight to the students and seems to seek Louis out of the group. Louis hangs back as the rest of the group heads into the hotel, and Harry walks back towards him purposefully.

“So are you still up for showing me the sights, Harry?”

“I am.” Harry’s simple answer unnerves him when it’s said so deeply and closely. And then, Harry is guiding him through the darkened city streets back towards the Piazza Navona.

“I know we’ve already been here, but it has a completely different vibe at night.”

When the narrow street opens up into the large piazza, Louis does feel some surprise at the difference. It’s crowded just as it was during the day, but there are more artists and street musicians and young people here to socialize than there were during the day. Harry directs him to a place to sample some tartufo that he refers to as death by chocolate, and they begin eating it at a table overlooking the rivers of people flowing amidst the fountains. Louis watches for a few minutes, and before the thought even fully forms, Louis asks, “Will you tell me about them? The fountains I mean.”

He turns to look at Harry when he doesn’t immediately reply and finds Harry watching him. Louis raises an eyebrow. “Hmmm. What? Sorry. Did you say something?”

Louis smirks. “I asked if you’d tell me about the fountains. When we were here the first day, Fizzy’s chattering drowned out your explanations.”

“Ah. Yes, if you’d like me to. I got the impression you maybe weren’t so impressed with my explanations. You seemed to find them a bit boring before.”

Louis’ lips twitch in amusement at the memory of nearly falling asleep in Harry’s classroom. “Yes, well, someone told me I’d find Rome more exciting in person.”

“Well, whoever that was sounds very knowledgeable. Are you finding that to be true?”

Louis rolls his eyes and huffs out a snort. “Yes, Harry. Rome is much more exciting in person than on a PowerPoint slide.”

“Heyyyy, I think  _ most _ people enjoyed that PowerPoint presentation!”

“Sure, sure. Now about the fountains—I actually really like them. I know I don’t know anything about art, but I like those fountains almost as much as that sculpture earlier.”

Harry’s eyes gleam in the dim light. “Very interesting you should say that, Louis. The same man is responsible for both.”

“Really? Bernini again? Guess I like him.”

“Well, you won’t be Baroque-en-hearted then to learn that you’ll find his stamp all over this city. And although you don’t care for my puns about it, you seem to be enjoying the Baroque style.”

“I can’t believe you actually used that again. That’s it—“ Louis pretends to half get up from his chair.

Harry laughs and slides his fingers around Louis’ wrist to keep him from leaving. “No, no! Please sit! I promise, no more bad puns! I’ll be on my best—“ They both seem to notice at the same time that Harry’s fingertips are pressing into Louis’ skin. “—behavior.”

Louis sinks back into the chair and tries to calm the instant response he just had to Harry’s touch. Harry’s fingers brush against his hand as he slowly releases Louis’ wrist, but they leave behind a ghostly presence on Louis’ skin.

///

The following day’s itinerary involves touring the Vatican City, and they begin at St. Peter’s Basilica. The group stands near the obelisk admiring the ring of columns that welcomes them into the square and the grandeur and size of the basilica. Louis stands off to the side of the group and shades his eyes to look up at the statues atop the columns.

“I suppose you like those as well.” Harry’s deep voice comes from just behind him and is accompanied by a brief touch of fingers to the small of Louis’ back. Louis tries to repress the shiver that sneaks up his spine.

“What?” Louis asks. He turns to look at Harry, a bit dazed by just that brief contact.

“The statues and really much of the design both inside and outside was created by your favorite artist. Bernini is also famous for his architecture.”

Louis turns back to look at the basilica. “Very cool guy.”

Harry seeks Louis out to point to each piece of art or architecture that is attributed to Bernini. Louis knows this has all peaked Fizzy’s curiosity, and he realizes he’s going to have some explaining to do. Harry is not subtle at hiding the attention he’s focusing on Louis.

It’s Louis’ turn for staying in that night to look after the students, and as predicted, Fizzy knocks on his hotel room door soon after they’ve returned from dinner. She throws herself across his bed with hearts in her eyes, and he already knows he’s in trouble.

“Soooooooo?”

“Yes? I’m about to take a shower if you don’t mind. It’s been a long day.”

“Pshhhhhhh. You know exactly what I want to know. What’s going on between you and Mr. Styles?”

“What? Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Louis says as he looks through his suitcase for clean underwear.

“Mr. Styles spent most of the day undressing you with his eyes and tailoring the tour to your specific tastes.”

“It’s not my fault that Bernini made every single thing in this city.”

“Okay, Lou. But just in case you were wondering, Mr. Styles is single.”

“He is? How do you know?” Louis whips around to face Fizzy.  “I mean, not that it matters—just curious or whatever.”

“Mhmm. Just curious. Sure, Lou. But yeah, he just went on date like two weeks ago with Lauren’s cousin. It didn’t go particularly well because Lauren’s cousin is a dickhead, and apparently all he wanted was to get in Mr. Styles pants.”

“Oh my god. I don’t think you should be talking about your teacher like this.”

Fizzy rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Lou. Mr. Styles is the best. He deserves someone great. Like maybe someone who’s good with kids and likes to travel and is dedicated to his family and especially his favorite sister—you know. Someone like that.”

It’s Louis’ turn to roll his eyes. “Great, so this whole trip was just a ruse to set me up with your favorite teacher?”

Fizzy jumps off the bed and heads for the door. “Pretty much.” She grins.

///

Harry has them up bright and early the next morning to browse a colorful, open air market before crossing the Tiber River and leading them on a walk through a charming medieval neighborhood. There’s a sense of ease about how Harry moves in Trastevere that makes Louis wonder. The washing strung up on lines between buildings, the planted pots lining the buildings with faded paintwork, and the shuttered bars still closed at this time of day, they all add to the quiet of their voices as Harry leads them through a labyrinth of narrow cobblestone streets.

Eventually the charm of the beginning of their walk gives way to more vibrant surroundings. When they reach Piazza di Santa Maria, they sit on the steps of the fountain and watch the locals and buskers and tourists pass them by. Harry again seeks him out and sits down beside him. Louis can feel the smugness radiating off his sister, but he ignores that and offers Harry a smile.

“This part of Rome is very different.” Louis comments.

“Yes, it is.” Harry answers.

“You seem different here, too.”

Harry looks surprised. “I used to live in Trastevere. When I was studying abroad in college, and then again when I taught English here after college. So I suppose I am different here. Feels a bit like coming home.” The moment holds a charge as their eyes meet.

“Mr. Styles, what church is that?”

The spell breaks, and Harry clears his throat to answer one of his students. “Ah, yes. That’s Santa Maria; it’s one of Rome’s oldest churches.”

Harry stands up. “In fact, let’s go ahead and go in now.”

They tour the church and a Renaissance villa before heading back across Rome closer to where their hotel is located. They look in awe at the preciseness of the Pantheon and tour through more nearby churches filled with art and history. As they stand in front of Santa Maria sopra Minera, Louis’ lips curve in amusement at a statue of an elephant. The church itself seems very different than any of the others they’ve seen. Harry again finds Louis’ side and shakes his head. “You’ve really got a thing for Bernini.”

“Wait, what? Are you telling me this elephant is Bernini, too?”

Harry laughs loudly drawing the attention of a few students before he schools his expression into a more temperate one. “It really is Bernini, but the thing I love about this church is that you can really see all the layers of Rome right here in one place. There’s an Egyptian obelisk, a Baroque elephant, and a Gothic church all built on the site of a pagan temple.”

“Huh. That is pretty cool.”

“You look like you fit here.” Harry looks at him as though he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“I do?”

“Sprezzatura.”

“What does that mean?”

Harry looks him up and down before meeting his eye. “You make looking like that look effortless.”

Louis watches as Harry walks away and back towards the group.

///

Louis finds Harry writing in his journal again before dinner. This time he doesn’t hesitate to join him. Harry’s face seems to soften a bit as he recognizes who has interrupted. “Hi, Louis.”

“Hi. What are you writing about today?”

“I’m actually just making some last minute changes to tomorrow’s itinerary. We’re having an ancient Rome day. I’d like to start with the Forum, but I know as soon as we get there everyone will just want to head straight to the Coliseum.” Harry shrugs as he rewrites his plans. “It’s too bad really because I’d rather wait for those initial crowds at opening time for the Coliseum to disperse a bit, but it is what it is.

“Well, I think we should stick with your plan then.”

“No, really. It’s okay. You’ll understand once we get there.” Harry glances back up at him. “Have you planned out your free night?”

“Ummm…”

“Louis!”

“I haven’t had time to think about it! I’ll figure something out.”

Harry stares at him for a few moments. “Would you like to have dinner with me? One of my favorite places is nearby. We could just have a drink with the others while they have dinner, and then we could eat later.”

“I’d like that.”

After dinner, Fizzy gives him some meaningful looks that he ignores before he heads off with Harry. They walk past the Pantheon, and Louis has begun to see how there’s a different energy to each place after dark.

“We’ll come back here after dinner.” Harry promises.

Harry’s hand finds the small of his back as he leads him a few streets over and into a restaurant that doesn’t look horribly overrun with tourists. “My friend Paolo’s family owns this place. You’ll like it. I promise.”

Harry’s promise is most definitely kept. Even the vegetables taste delicious, and that’s really saying something coming from him. Both the conversation and the wine flow generously, and Louis finds himself a bit tipsy as they walk back towards the Pantheon. His inhibitions are lowered enough that he doesn’t hesitate to thread his arm through Harry’s to steady himself, and somehow by the time they’ve reached the hotel, his arm has wrapped itself around Harry’s slim waist. He lets Harry’s warmth seep into his side as he nuzzles a bit closer. They stumble a bit up the flight of stairs to their rooms, and as they reach Louis’ door, Louis can see the intent burn in Harry’s eyes. Harry’s hands find his hips, and Louis is ready when Harry bends down to him. He closes his eyes, but the kiss never comes. He feels Harry’s absence as Harry withdraws and backs away. Louis’ eyes fly open as he watches Harry slide his fingers through his hair as he turns abruptly away from him.

“Harry?”

“Lou, you’ve had a lot to drink tonight.  _ We’ve _ had a lot to drink tonight. Be sure to drink some water before you go to bed, okay?”

Louis lets the disappointment sink into his chest. “Okay.” He echoes in response as he watches Harry walk down the hall and disappear into his own room.

///

As soon as the columns and arches of travertine stone comes into view Louis can’t look away. He loses track of even the thought of the group of people he’s with as his feet carry him towards the massive structure before him. Men dressed in crude gladiator costumes call out to him, but he barely notices them as he cranes his neck to the sky.

“Told you so.”

Louis snaps out of the daze he’s in as he hears a now familiar voice send a current down his spine. He’s not sure how to behave today. Not after last night. He feels awkward now, wondering if he’s misread Harry’s intentions. Harry is grinning at him smugly though.

“What?”

“I told you as soon as the Coliseum came into view, you’d lose any interest you had in visiting the Forum first.”

“That you did.” Louis agrees. He slides his sunglasses back over his eyes to shade them from the morning sun. Harry frowns, and the tension between them returns. He does his best to stay at the back as Harry leads their eager group through the massive amphitheater. He still stays close enough to hear Harry’s explanations though, no use in denying himself that.

As they begin the short walk to the Forum, Fizzy hisses at him. “What is going on?”

“What are you talking about?”

Her look is unimpressed. “Mr. Styles keeps watching you like a kicked puppy.”

“Well, that’s really unfair when he’s the one who—“

“The one who what?”

“Nothing.” Louis mumbles.

“Mhmm.”

They climb Palatine Hill, and Louis can feel the melancholy that ruins like this can bring you. Lunch is a respite, but the day becomes hot and dusty and exhausting as Harry dutifully guides them along through ancient Rome. It seems every time he laughs with Fizzy, he can feel Harry’s stare.

After dinner, Harry extends their time a bit to eat gelato by the Trevi Fountain and to let the students throw their coins into it, a tradition so that they’ll someday return to Rome. After Fizzy throws hers in, Louis pulls a coin from his pocket and turns his back to throw it over his shoulder. He watches as Fizzy and her friends abruptly scatter as Harry approaches.

“Hi.”

Louis’ arm falls back to his side. “Hi.”

“You’re avoiding me.”

“What? I am not—“ Louis splutters, caught off guard at the directness.

“You should throw your coin in. I hope you’ve enjoyed Rome enough to want to come back someday.”

Harry’s nearness does strange things to Louis’ pulse. He swallows his response and instead turns back to throw the coin over his shoulder. “Did it go in?” He asks.

“Hmmm? Oh, I don’t know.” Harry admits. “Wasn’t looking at the fountain.”

When they return to the hotel, Louis and half of the chaperones lead their charges to their rooms as Harry heads back out into the night. Louis wonders where he goes on the evenings Louis must stay in with the students. He realizes Harry must know people here if he lived here for any length of time. He wonders who he’s visiting and what he’s doing. He tries to shake it off, but in the shower he strokes himself to the thought of the way Harry looks at him and Harry’s name is the one that crosses his lips as he comes.

///

Louis can feel the anticipation that threads itself through his body as he follows Harry through grand Roman baths and dark crypts. Harry’s voice deepens in the quiet spaces, sending goosebumps crawling across Louis’ skin. Harry remains at his side for most of the day, brushing by him over and over, until Louis can hardly stand the torture.

As everyone readies for dinner, Louis is helplessly drawn back to where he knows Harry will be, writing in his journal. There’s so much more intent now in his joining Harry, and he sits silently beside him as he glances at Harry’s page.

“Solare. What’s that mean?”

Harry stares hard at the page for a long moment. “You know when there’s a person who can brighten a room just by walking into it? Someone warm. Caring. Smiling. Bright. Like the sun.”

“Oh.” Louis whispers.

Harry closes the journal and leans in as he meets Louis’ eye. “Would you spend the evening with me, Louis?”

“Uh, I actually had been thinking about how you’d maybe like more time to visit your friends while you’re here instead of hauling me around. I’m sure I can muddle through on my own tonight, if you want.”

“I’ve seen my friends. I’d like to spend my time with you.  Perhaps you’d like to meet them before the trip is over. But not tonight.”

“Okay.” Louis can hear the high pitched tone in his voice as he answers. “Well, I’m going to go get ready for dinner then.”

Dinner is a yet another exercise in torture. Louis nearly swallows his tongue when he sees Harry in a bright white shirt only partially buttoned, his long legs encased in tight black jeans. Harry seats himself next to him, entertaining the group with a long winded story about his first night in Rome and accidentally overflowing a bidet with water because he didn’t know what it was, while at the same time gripping Louis’ thigh beneath the table. Louis tries to eat and breathe normally, but the feeling of Harry’s long fingers against him don't help. 

They let the others walk on ahead of them after dinner.

As they near the hotel, Harry stops abruptly and reaches out his hand for Louis’. “I was thinking of taking you dancing.”

Louis stares down at their hands for a brief moment before processing the thought. “Dancing?”

“Yes, but then we’ll be out quite late, I suppose. Maybe that’s not very responsible.”

“Um, well. We could just go for a short time, I suppose.”

“Yeah, just a short time maybe. We could go get a drink and then to a club when it’s later.” Harry closes the distance between them. “I think I’d quite like to dance with you.”

Louis heart pounds. “I think I should maybe change my clothes? I didn’t know we’d be going to a club when I got dressed earlier.”

Harry releases Louis’ hand as he follows him into the hotel and back up to his room. They pause at the door.

“Uh, would you like to come in and wait for me?” Louis asks.

Harry doesn’t answer, but follows Louis inside his room and perches at the edge of his bed. Louis very much likes the way it looks to have Harry on his bed. He swallows hard and rifles through his still unpacked suitcase for something suitable. He has a brief moment of panic about changing his shirt. Should he change in front of Harry? He knows his cheeks are growing flushed, so he grabs it and heads into the bathroom.

He takes a few deep breaths in front of the mirror and tries to calm down. It’s just dancing. It will be fine. He wills his dick to cooperate as he carefully slides a sheer black t-shirt over his carefully styled hair. He thinks he looks pretty good. The jeans are pretty much painted on at this point, he thinks as he checks out his ass in the mirror. He takes one more deep breath before he emerges from the bathroom.

He walks out and can’t quite make himself look for Harry’s reaction, so he just quickly makes his way to the door and has it partially open when it’s suddenly slammed shut. Harry’s hand is on the door and his body is behind him, trapping him in place.

“I think we should stay in.” Harry is so close, Louis can feel his breath against the bare skin of his neck.

Louis stands frozen in place. “I thought you always say I shouldn’t miss out on my time in Rome.”

Harry turns Louis to face him. “Fuck it. I’ll bring you back here whenever you want. You can see more then.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Louis says as his heart pounds. “What should we do instead?”

Apparently, that is  _ finally _ enough of an invitation for Harry. He crowds Louis up against the door and waits until Louis looks up to meet his gaze. There’s a question still there in his eyes, still waiting for Louis. Louis clutches the collar of Harry’s shirt and pulls him closer.

“Please tell me you’re finally going to kiss me.” Louis says as Harry’s lips draw nearer.

A low growl seems to come from Harry as he covers Louis’ mouth with his own. He kisses him again and again as his body presses against him. Louis nips at Harry’s bottom lip, and Harry whimpers before suddenly hoisting Louis up against the door. Louis’ legs wrap around his waist as Harry’s fingers press against his ass. Louis’s fingers thread themselves through Harry’s curls, and he can feel Harry hard against him. Harry carries him the short distance to the bed, and they topple onto it.

Louis stares openly at Harry’s flushed cheeks and wayward curls and his mouth pink and bitten. He knows he’s not seen anything better than this sight, no matter what else Rome has to offer. He pushes Harry onto his back and straddles him, rocking his hips down as he kisses Harry fervently. Harry’s hands touch every part of Louis he can reach as though he’s been waiting for this moment and now that it is here, he can’t decide. Louis moans against Harry’s mouth when his fingers slip beneath his shirt and releases his lips only so Harry can draw the shirt back up over his head. Louis makes quick work of the buttons on Harry’s shirt until it lays open before him. He traces the tattoos he finds on Harry’s chest and stomach as Harry trembles beneath him. Harry must finally reach the limit of his patience because he grabs Louis’ wrists just before he pulls Louis back to the bed.

He hesitates for a moment as he reaches for the fly of Louis’ jeans, waiting for Louis’ permission to go further. Louis undoes it himself and struggles to get them down his legs until Harry yanks them further down his body. Harry quickly stands and peels his own jeans off. Their kissing takes on a desperate edge as flames lick through Louis’ veins. Harry tugs down Louis’ boxer briefs as well as his own before taking them both in one large hand. Harry strokes their cocks together, watching Louis’ face as he gasps at the sensation. He brings them off together as they each call out the other’s name.

As they lay panting next to each other on the bed, Harry turns his head and smiles sheepishly at Louis. “Sorry about the dancing.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “It was your idea anyway.”

“I know.” Harry laughs. “But when you came out of the bathroom looking like you were straight out of my fantasies, I lost whatever self-control I’d managed before.”

“Oh, really? So you fantasize about me then, do you?”

“Yes, really. Pretty much since you fell asleep in my classroom months ago. But let me tell you, the fantasy does not compare to the reality.”  Harry props himself up next to Louis and lets his eyes wander down Louis’ body.

“Like what you see, Mr. Styles?”

Harry moans. “Fuck that’s hot. So hot that I’ve forgotten what I was going to say now.”

Louis laughs, and he doesn’t remember the last time he lay in bed with someone who both turned him on and made him laugh.

Harry is looking at him differently now, more seriously. “Lou? If you’d like to, I’d love for you to meet my friends here. And I’d like to take you out again. Actually take you on a date this time, a real one. And when we get home, I hope you’ll want to keep seeing more of me.”

“Well, I did say I’d like to come back to Rome someday. Suppose I’ll need a guide.”

Harry whacks him with a pillow.

“Kidding! I’m kidding!” Louis says as he holds his arms up defensively against the onslaught of pillows. “Of course, I want to see more of you, Harry. You’re amazing.”

The pillows are replaced with kisses, and Louis is suddenly very grateful for interfering sisters who like to speak Italian.

///

“Lou, if you pack the shampoo, I’ll pack the toothpaste and toothbrushes.” Louis hears Harry call from the bathroom. Louis dutifully places the shampoo Harry’s left out in a plastic bag and then into his suitcase.

Harry peers out of their master bathroom. “And Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, maybe pack that shirt.”

“Which shirt?” Louis smirks. He knows which shirt.

“You know damn well which shirt I want you to bring to Rome, Lou.”

“Ohhhhh,  _ that _ shirt. The one you can never seem to rip off my body fast enough.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “So vain.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Harry tackles him onto the bed. “I also love you. Now put the fucking shirt in the suitcase.”

Louis smiles as he presses his lips to Harry’s. He’s fairly certain that his coin must have made it into that fountain two years ago. He knew he’d be back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my very self-indulgent fic about one of my favorite cities in the world. I bet you all know who my favorite artist is now as well. ahaha. 
> 
> If you liked the fic, please leave kudos and/or comments! [Here is the rebloggable post for this fic.](http://allwaswell16.tumblr.com/post/159976259186/you-really-got-me-now-by-allwaswell16) If you reblog it, I shall love you forever! <3 Come talk to me anytime on tumblr! xx
> 
> So much love to the other writers doing this challenge! It's been lovely getting to know you. xx


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